Zydeco Coffee

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*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.


Martina ‘Marty’ Reffels parked her car in the students’ parking lot of Hattie Caraway High School. The Myndee, Arkansas high school had been built in 1964 and Marty was sure that 1964 had been the last time the school had seen a paint brush.

The parking lot’s asphalt was horribly cracked. Any lines delineating parking spaces had long ago faded. But since few of the students that attended the high school actually had their own automobiles, parking availability was not a problem.

“Last year,” Marty said out loud as she turned off her car. “Well, it better be.”

The nineteen year old girl got out of the car and grabbed her tall thermos. Entering the school, Marty sighed in disgust.

The fluorescent lights still had a few blown tubes. The hallway was dingy, dark.

The once black and white checkerboard tile was now dark gray and light, mottle gray. Many of the tiles were chipped, in need of replacement. The walls were faded; it was hard to tell what color they had once been; it was hard to tell what color they were now.

Marty found her assigned locker and knew she would not be using it. The door was caved in and did not shut fully. Locking it would be an impossibility.

“Didn’t Clarkston pass some stupid sales tax pay for education?” Marty asked no one in particular.

“Uh huh, a quarter penny,” a male student said. “Feel like you getting your money’s worth?”

Room 310 had thirty four desks crammed in haphazard rows of seven and eight desks. Many of the desks were wobbly. A few were missing their tops, some were missing their seats. Marty quickly grabbed one that didn’t look too bad. She unscrewed the top of her thermos and took a deep, satisfying sip of her coffee.

“Jesus, smells like shit,” one of the school’s cheerleaders claimed.

“Smelling your upper lip, bitch,” Marty muttered.

Marty looked up when a beautiful red head entered the room. The red head glanced around, pale round face smiling. She checked her card again, then found a desk that was in semi-decent shape.

Mr. Abadie urged his immense bulk into the room. The teacher panted and wheezed as he sat in his chair behind the large desk just as the school’s buzzer gave the first anemic bleat.

“Every year, Ms. Davidson swears she’s going have that thing fixed. And every year…” Mr. Abadie said.

After the third buzzer, Mr. Abadie asked one of the students to close the door of the room. Then he called attendance.

Marty found out, through the calling of attendance, that the beautiful stranger’s name was Honey Fullilove, recently moved from DeGarde, Louisiana. Her voice was thick, like syrup.

Being seniors, Marty and Honey had many of the same classes. But from the moment the buzzer sounded for first class period, the popular clique surrounded the new girl, monopolized her attention.

But whenever Marty glanced over at Honey, the red head gave her a little smile. The one time Marty braved a smile, the red head’s smile widened.

Marty stood four foot eleven. She was almost twenty pounds overweight, much of the weight in her buttocks and breasts. Her ankle length brown hair hung limply; usually, she had it done in a ponytail, just to keep it from dragging the floor. Her bright blue eyes, she always thought were her best feature.

Marty would have killed to have pretty green eyes and beautiful red hair like Honey. Marty would have loved to stand five feet four, and have a slender dancer’s build like Honey Fullilove.

Marty would have loved to have everyone fawning over her as Honey had everyone fawning over her. Marty was used to being rebuffed, rejected by her peers, at least when they were in front of their friends.

Behind their friends’ backs, Marty was the girl they fucked. She was the girl they promised friendship, affection; until they ejaculated. Then they abandoned her.

The day finally came to an end and Marty gratefully went to her car. She made sure she had her thermos with her, made sure to put it into the passenger’s seat before driving away.

The following morning, Marty again grabbed her thermos, grabbed the books and the notebooks she’d need for her first three classes.

Entering Room 310, she saw that Honey was already in the room. Two of the football players were trying to impress the new beauty with stories of their football prowess.

Marty had admired Honey’s clothing yesterday. Hattie Caraway had a dress code, but it had not been enforced in years. As one teacher joked, ‘I’m happy they even bother to dress at all.’ Honey’s top had been a frilly, lacy top. Her jeans had been snug, enhancing her sculpted legs, her delectable buttocks.

Today’s outfit was no different. The black jeans looked painted on. The lacy cream colored top made Honey’s bright hair, her beautiful eyes stand out even more.

“Man! görükle escort You boring yeah,” Honey snapped at her two male admirers. “Football’s stupid ask me.”

To the shock of the people in their little clique, Honey got to her feet and walked out of their little cluster. The beauty walked to where Marty sat, beautiful blue eyes taking in the spectacle of the clique being brushed aside.

“You Marty, right?” Honey asked, taking the wobbly seat next to Marty.

“I uh yeah,” Marty said, nervously unscrewing her thermos’s top.

“Aw cher, what you got in that?” Honey asked.

“I uh, my coffee,” Marty said.

“Stuff stinks,” one of the cheerleaders announced.

“See, I grind my own, then I use this coffee press,” Marty explained to Honey.

“Man! I try me some?” Honey asked.

“I uh, yeah, sure,” Marty agreed and poured some into the thermos’s top.

“Man!” Honey enthused, tasting the strong brew. “That good yeah.”

For the classes they shared, Marty and Honey walked together, sat together, chatted with one another. At lunch time, they sat together and complained about the horrible school lunch the cafeteria served.

“Yeah, my daddy? He a teacher at that Myndee University there. Psychology,” Honey explained why she had left DeGarde to move to the small Arkansas town. “They been after him long time, and then my momma, she kilt herself yeah and we just up and move.”

“Oh my God!” Marty said, eyes wide. “My momma killed herself too!”

“You making that up yeah,” Honey accused.

“No. No, I’m not. She, we found out, she had breast cancer and she just didn’t want…” Marty said, then broke down, crying over the loss of her mother.

Oh! Aw cher! No, no, nuh, uh, don’t need be crying no,” Honey soothed, hugging Marty tightly.

On Friday morning, William Reffels shrugged when Marty asked if she could spend the night at Honey’s house. William was sure this unknown ‘Honey’ was just camouflage for some boy Marty was having sex with. Ever since his wife’s suicide, he found little to care about. He went to work. He did his job. He came home to whatever meal Marty had fixed for them, then he went to bed. In the morning, he repeated the whole ordeal. And William kept wishing for the whole ordeal to end.

Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, William turned on the television and watched NASCAR, or football, or baseball, or wrestling. And drank beer.

“Not basketball, though. Shit drives me crazy,” he said to himself. “Then shoes running up and down the court—squeaksqueaksqueak. Shoot me, huh?”

Marty packed her coffee beans, electric grinder, and coffee press into a small box, each item wrapped in two grocery bags apiece.

“Marty, this friend. They don’t have their own coffee?” William teased his daughter.

“Honey likes mine,” Marty explained.

“Oh. This Honey. She’s got a phone?” William asked suddenly.

“Uh huh; want the number?” Marty asked, surprising him.

“Yes,” he decided.

After school, Marty drove as Honey gave directions. Soon, they were driving north past the university. A series of turns put Marty into the more affluent neighborhood of Myndee, Arkansas. Marty had been through this area before, at Christmas time. Many of the houses really went all out on their decorations.

“And, right there, where that boat is,” Honey said, pointing.

“Wow, nice,” Marty said, looking at the large house.

Inside the house, Marty met Ida Campbell, Dr. Michael Fullilove’s fiancé. The stunning blonde smiled warmly and confessed, when Honey had asked if her new friend Marty could spend the night, both she and Michael had assumed that Marty was a boy.

“We be down in the basement, Ida,” Honey said.

“Of course,” Ida smiled. “I’ve already got a whole bunch of pillows down there. There’s some blankets on the backs of the couches. Oh! And I put the popcorn maker down there. All you have to do is plug it in and turn it on, okay?”

“Thanks, Ida,” Honey smiled, pulling Marty toward the door.

“Supper in about an hour; don’t do the popcorn just yet, okay?” Ida called out as Honey opened the door.

“Uh huh,” Honey agreed as she led Marty into a large room with a long sectional couch, a wall-mounted television and game system. Through a small door, Marty could see a shower stall and a commode.

“Hang on,” Marty said as they flopped down on the comfortable couch. “They thought I was a boy?”

“Man, I guess. I don’t know me,” Honey agreed.

“But they were still okay with me staying over?” Marty pressed.

“Yeah,” Honey said.

Honey told Marty that her father had some strange ideas about child-rearing. His specialty was educational psychology. She and a few of the children in her neighborhood in DeGarde had been home-schooled, primarily by her mother, with a curriculum designed by her father.

“In ’bout three months? I’m taking me that G.E.D. thing,” Honey said. “Hate school. I mean, other than you yeah.”

“Huh!” Marty said, wondering if she could take the G.E.D.

She’d görükle escort bayan been held back after her mother’s suicide. She’d simply quit caring about school, homework, studying. Alcohol and other recreational drugs became the norm for Marty. She’d also become quite promiscuous during this period.

Her grandfather, her mother’s father had snapped Marty out of it, though. The grizzled old man had looked at his granddaughter as she sat, nursing an unrelenting hangover and asked if she thought her mother would be proud of her.

“Oh, that so sad yeah,” Honey said, hugging her friend.

“Coming down, better be decent,” a man’s voice called out.

“Quick! Quick! Get them clothes on! Hide all them drugs!” Honey screamed.

“What?” Marty squealed.

“You are so not funny,” Michael smirked, coming down the steps. “Ida tells me that Marty is actually a stark raving beauty.”

“A what?” Marty asked, surprised.

“Dad, this Marty,” Honey introduced. “Marty, this my dad, Dr. Michael Fullilove.”

“It is so wonderful to meet you,” a handsome older man smiled, holding out both of his hands to Marty.

“Uh, yeah, nice meet you too,” Marty agreed.

The man had dark hair and dark eyes. His build was short and stocky. His teeth gleamed white against his swarthy skin when he smiled. His grip was firm and Marty could feel that the man’s hands were slightly calloused.

“Had a good day at school today?” Dr. Fullilove asked the two teenagers.

“I guess,” Honey mumbled, adopting a sullen attitude.

“Quit,” Dr. Fullilove smiled and Honey giggled.

“Supper in about forty minutes, okay?” Dr. Fullilove reminded them and went up the stairs again.

“Your step-mom said I’m a stark raving beauty?” Marty asked Honey.

“Yeah. Well, you are,” Honey said, placing a thumb on Marty’s cheek.

She traced Marty’s cheek, then her jawline, looking into Marty’s blue eyes. Her fingers gently held Marty’s head.

Marty’s head was whirring, buzzing. This was very akin to the feeling she’d had the last time she’d drank nearly an entire fifth of dark rum.

“I mean, man, would love have hair all long like that and cher! Them eyes?” Honey whispered and softly kissed Marty’s lips.

Marty thought to protest. She had never been with a girl before. She thought to push Honey away. She thought to grab her overnight bag, her box and storm up the stairs and out of the house.

Marty could smell Honey’s perfume, a soft scent of musk. She could smell Honey’s sweat; a not unpleasant sweat that filled her nostrils. She could feel the softness of Honey’s lips against her own.

Marty opened her mouth and sucked Honey’s tongue into her gasping mouth. She brought her hand up and softly traced Honey’s beautiful face as they kissed.

Honey’s other hand came up and touched Marty’s shoulder. Honey gently urged Marty to swivel on the couch so that they more fully faced one another.

“Mm,” Honey moaned into Marty’s mouth.

“Mm,” Marty agreed.

“Marty, you’re not allergic to shellfish, are you?” Ida’s voice floated down the stairs.

I uh, no, no ma’am,” Marty gasped out.

“We’re having a shrimp creole; that good?” Ida asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Honey agreed.

“She an okay cook, but aw! Man, my momma’s cooking? Plate of that? Need slap somebody, I tell you that,” Honey said.

“What?” Marty giggled at Honey’s odd statement.

They kissed again, then quietly talked until Ida called them up for supper. They held hands as they tromped up the stairs.

“Okay, you know where the ice cream is,” Dr. Fullilove said as he finished eating his meal.

“And your Girl Scout cookies yeah,” Honey agreed.

“Which are most definitely off limits to either one of you,” Dr. Fullilove threatened.

“Need us, come get us,” Ida said, rising from the table.

“But otherwise? You two have the whole basement to yourselves,” Dr. Fullilove agreed.

Honey brought Marty back down the stairs. Then with another soft kiss, Honey said she’d get ready for bed then be right back down.

“She’s cute,” Dr. Fullilove said, stopping Honey right outside of her bedroom.

“Yeah,” Honey said.

“I uh, so, does this mean…?” Dr. Fullilove asked, not finishing his question.

“I don’t know,” Honey admitted.

“Well, she’s cute,” he said again, then entered his bedroom.

In her bedroom, Honey selected a camisole top and a pair of tap pants. She quickly shrugged out of the light green top she’d worn to school that day. With a grateful sigh, she unhooked her bra and let her 30B breasts bobble free.

“Man!” Honey sighed, massaging her breasts.

She unzipped her snug jeans, kicked her tennis shoes off her feet, then slid the jeans down and off. Her pretty pink panties followed and the whole pile of clothes was stuffed into the cute wicker hamper in her adjoining bathroom.

She paused to admire herself in her mirror. Her breasts were small, with pale pink areolae, hard nipples. Her belly was slightly concave, bursa escort her waist nipped in slightly. Her hips flared out slightly, giving her a slight hourglass shape. Her buttocks were small, tight. Her crotch was hairless, shaved smooth.

In her bedroom again, Honey quickly wiggled into her camisole top and tap pants, then jammed her feet into fuzzy flip flops.

“Good luck,” Ida said quietly as Honey left her bedroom.

“Good luck?” Honey asked the young woman.

“Oh! Well, I had assumed you’d be telling your friend,” Ida said, coloring slightly.

“Oh,” Honey said.

Prancing down the basement steps, Honey saw Marty coming out of the bathroom. The brunette was dressed in short tee shirt and simple panties. Through the tee shirt, Honey could see Marty’s dark areolae. Through the crotch of Marty’s panties, Honey could see a dark shadow.

Pulling up the Netflix and they selected a movie. Then, as the movie began, Honey plugged the popcorn maker in and then lowered the lights.

“Mm,” Marty sighed as Honey draped a blanket over their bare legs.

“Mm,” Honey agreed as they snuggled together.

They ate popcorn, drank sodas, and talked while the movie was ignored.

Then, as the credits rolled, Marty leaned up and sucked on Honey’s lips. Her small hand when up to cup one of Honey’s breasts.

“Mm, oh man! Aw, got me something need tell you yeah,” Honey moaned as Marty’s touches and kissed grew more forceful.

“I uh, okay,” Marty said, pulling back to look into Honey’s eyes.

“I, when I was a baby me? Would watch my momma, aw! Cher! My momma? She was so beautiful yeah,” Honey said.

She described watching her mother putting on her cosmetics. Honey talked about her mother’s fine lingerie, her pretty garments. She told Marty how she would just sit and watch her mother get ready for her day ahead.

“And then I’d get ready,” Honey said. “I’d put me my make up on, then I’d put me a dress and her shoes.”

“Lots of little girls do that,” Marty giggled, remembering that she too did the same thing.

“Uh huh, but I wasn’t no little girl,” Honey confessed.

“I mean, yeah, I was a tomboy too,” Marty agreed. “After it would rain? I’d be right in the creek, getting as dirty as any old boy.”

“My dad, he would do these experiments. He’d put out some boy’s clothes and some girl’s clothes and then wait see which ones I’d get. Man! Feeling them soft, pretty panties? Wasn’t no way I was putting me no boy’s drawers on, tell you that,” Honey said.

“Huh?” Marty asked, beginning to sense that there was a reason Honey was divulging this odd tale.

“Marty, you my best friend, you the first girl I ever, Marty, need you swear you ain’t going ever tell nobody none of this,” Honey begged.

“Tell nobody none, Honey, what?” Marty asked, thoroughly confused.

“I’m a boy me,” Honey confessed.

“You’re a, no you’re not!” Marty stated firmly.

Honey wiggled out from underneath their blanket. Marty looked at Honey’s hotly blushing face, her fearful eyes.

“Look,” Honey said, wiggling her pajama bottoms down her shapely legs.

Marty tore her gaze from Honey’s beautiful red hair, her beautiful face and glanced down. The camisole top was snug, emphasizing Honey’s perky breasts and hard nipples. The hem of the camisole top revealed Honey’s pale belly, her soft middle, her little dent of a belly button.

And there was a fat little cock hanging limply over two large testicles.

Honey was uncircumcised; the foreskin draped over the head of Honey’s limp cock. Marty goggled at this as well as goggling at the sight of a pale cock where a slit should have been.

“That, that’s a, you got a weenie?” Marty asked.

“A what?” Honey couldn’t help but giggle.

“A weenie, a dick,” Marty said.

“I yeah,” Honey agreed. “I was born Henry Michael Fullilove but even as a baby, I knew I wasn’t no boy.”

“Does it, does it work?” Marty asked, still looking at the small cock.

“I, yeah, we was kissing? Was real scared you going feel it poking you in the leg,” Honey admitted.

“You, can you, it shoot?” Marty asked, reaching a small hand out toward Honey’s cock.

“Man! Like you wouldn’t believe!” Honey admitted. “I mean, been taking me that estrogen stuff? Why it kind of small, but it shoot all over the place yeah.”

Marty’s small hand came in contact with Honey’s cock. She wrapped her small hand around the member and even tugged on it softly. Then she leaned forward and kissed Honey’s pouting lips. Her other arm went around Honey’s shoulders, pulling Honey toward her.

“Oh!” Honey sighed, thrilled with Marty’s reaction.

“Mmph!” Marty grunted, surprised as Honey’s cock quickly swelled in her small hand.

Her fingers had barely been able to fit around the fat, short penis when it was flaccid. Now, her fingers and thumb did not meet. The length was still short, no more than five inches, but Honey’s member was very thick.

Their tongues dueled while Marty stroked and tugged on Honey’s cock. Honey’s hands went up to Marty’s heavy breasts, hefting the heavy orbs in their snug tee shirt.

Honey wiggled her tap pants down and off her sleek legs. Marty pulled out of their kiss and pulled her tee shirt up and off, freeing her heavy breasts. Honey pulled her own top up and off.

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